


you were made for me (and we are meant to be)

by pinwheeled



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: I just love junhoon a lot although i'm clearly a mess at writing, M/M, Soulmate AU of sorts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's just a whole mess of, jihoon blushes a lot, pls give them a lot of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:37:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinwheeled/pseuds/pinwheeled
Summary: There is something beautiful about emptiness. A plain canvas, an instrumental track, the quiet infinity of the deep ocean. It is beautiful in the ways it can be filled - with a splash of colour; it is beautiful in the endless possibilities it holds. It is beautiful how something seemingly so small, so mundane, can fill up a void and leave it gapless.To find that one thing, is a little magical. The way the universe works to piece the puzzle bit by bit without you knowing, and at the end, you'll realise how everything falls together seamlessly, how everything was meant to be.How people are made for each other.





	1. you are the music in me

Jihoon almost falls asleep on the bus again, saved by the painful thud his head makes with the window. It’s barely the start of semester and he wants to quit, but he can’t, he won’t, because he loves music as much as he loves his mother’s homemade food - two things he’d never give up on.

 

It would be a lot easier if he didn’t procrastinate so much on this piece, a small USB that holds half his grade in his Modern Music module. He spent three whole nights on it, and while he isn’t satisfied by it, it’s a decent track which could probably get him a B+.

 

He’s pushing through the glass doors to the School of Fine Arts when a body collides with him. He curses, holding his arm and glaring up at the other person. 

 

“Oh my god,” he says, “your thumb drive.”

 

Jihoon follows the guy’s gaze and feels his throat close up at the sight of his USB in the drain just a stride away. It lies in the water pathetically, and both of them remain silent. Jihoon didn’t even realise it flew out, didn’t hear it skid across the concrete.

 

The other guy springs into action, trying to pull the cover up, to no avail. It’s bolted down, Jihoon knows, to prevent rats and other pests from crawling out in the middle of the night. He loses all hope, and immediately whips his phone out to check when the next bus is. It takes twenty minutes to get back to his room and another twenty back to school. 

 

“I’m so, so sorry. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Here,” the guy digs through his pockets for something, “take mine and use it. I’ll write in to the office for you if you’re late in submitting.”

 

Jihoon takes it wordlessly, and the guy smiles in apology. He tells Jihoon to keep the thumb drive, and says that he’ll buy him a coffee next time they meet.

 

On his second trip to school that day, Jihoon doesn’t fall asleep - he thinks about his encounter with the guy earlier on. There was something itching in the back of his mind, like he knew this person, like they’ve met before, but he can’t remember. There’s a startling familiarity in the way his eyebrows raise, in the way his lips quirk up.

 

When he finally settles down in front of his laptop after submitting his work (he wasn’t late after all - he hopes the guy didn’t go through the trouble of writing in to the office), he finds the folders he moved onto his desktop from the thumb drive. One of them is labelled ‘do not open’.

 

Jihoon opens it.

 

He plugs his earphones in and listens. It’s a Chinese song, and while he’s never listened to any Chinese song before, he knows that this one is an original, the imperfections in the melody a telltale sign. It’s not a bad attempt, but Jihoon knows that the voice makes the whole song sound a whole lot nicer than it actually is. It’s the same voice he heard when he dropped his own USB, a light, soft voice almost dripping with honey. Thirty minutes into the folder, Jihoon realises he’s addicted.

 

He almost wants to look for the owner, but he realises he doesn’t have any leads besides the fact that they’re from the same school. That isn’t much help either, because there’s a good seven hundred people in his batch. 

 

Jihoon gives up without truly trying, but they often say that when you look for something you won’t find it. On the contrary, it appears when you least expect it. He meets the guy in the cafeteria on a day where it’s almost empty, a glaring Saturday afternoon where he shouldn’t even be in school. He almost yells when he spots the familiar brick red hair.

 

“Your thumb drive.” 

 

The guy looks at him quizzically, and then like he’s been struck like lightning, his face morphs into shock. “You! Did you submit your work?” He rattles off about how he’s a blundering idiot for not leaving a contact number behind, and that he’s almost lost hope in finding Jihoon in the sea of students.

 

“I’m so glad you’re here- wait, why are you even here?”

 

There isn’t any other good reason for Jihoon to be loitering in school during the weekends, so he tells the truth, “I wanted to use the recording studios.” They’re normally very packed and difficult to book, so Jihoon makes use of these two days to use them to his heart’s content.

 

The guy hums. Jihoon wants to ask questions without making it known that he pried into the other’s privacy (it was labelled ‘do not open’ after all), but he can’t think of how to start the conversation, so he falls silent, subtly angling his body to walk in the opposite direction.

 

“Wait, you know I said I’ll buy you a cup of coffee? Would you like that?” The guy places a gentle hand on his forearm, and he feels static through the veins where they’re touching. It’s almost unreal, Jihoon thinks he’s been too deprived of human contact to the point where every interaction is overwhelming.

 

They walk to the cafe just slightly away from campus, because the guy insists they serve the best Americanos there. 

 

“I’m Junhui, by the way,” he says, his voice sounding as soothing as it did in his tracks. Jihoon can’t stop thinking about it.

 

“I’m Jihoon,” he says curtly, awkwardly, and he cringes at how inept he sounds in talking, like a baby saying his first word.

 

“Jihoon? That’s a nice name,” Junhui smiles, and it’s funny how Jihoon is such a common name, but through Junhui’s lips, it sounds as unique as he says it is.

 

The cafe does serve amazing Americanos, and Jihoon commits the directions here to memory. It’s a nice, quiet cafe, and he can see himself doing his work here on lazy afternoons. 

 

Junhui initiates most of the conversation, because Jihoon is conscious of the risk of exposing his nosiness, and he isn’t keen on putting Junhui off by revealing that he listened to every single one of his works on that thumb drive.

 

“I’ll see you around,” Junhui smiles as they part ways back in campus, and Jihoon finds himself returning the smile. He probably will not see Junhui around, especially since he didn’t leave his number after all. There isn’t any reason for them to meet after this, and they’ve tied up loose ends. Jihoon reasons with himself that the only reason why he feels slightly disappointed is because Junhui has a nice voice and he’d love to ask for him to record a few of his works.

 

Jihoon gets an A for the submission. He should be happy, but he just feels relieved that it wasn’t anything lower. It’s not too healthy, the standards he subjects himself to, but it pushes him to work harder, to aim higher. He  gives himself a pat on the back and tries not to think that anything lesser than an A would’ve been a taint on his grades.

 

He lets himself celebrate a little, closing the tabs on his laptop and pulling on a jacket and walking to the nearby ramyun restaurant.

 

He’s just done ordering when he turns and walks face first into a broad chest. He stumbles back, face reddening in embarrassment. 

 

“Ji...hoon?” 

 

He looks up and meets Junhui’s surprised gaze. “Fancy meeting you here,” he breathes, steadying Jihoon by holding his shoulders. His hands are warm, almost burning, and Jihoon feels it all the way down to his bones.

 

They share a table, because eating alone after bumping into each other would be even more awkward, and Jihoon eats like he hasn’t eaten for days. Junhui watches him with concerned eyes.

 

“You didn’t starve yourself or something?” He asks, staring at the small stack of bowls beside Jihoon. He’s on his third serving now.

 

“Nope,” Jihoon replies around a mouthful of noodles, “I usually eat this much.”

 

Junhui laughs, and Jihoon finds that it’s as sweet-sounding as every other sound he’s made thus far. They eat with little words, two hungry boys filling their stomachs up with hot soup on a chilly night.

 

“Here’s my number,” Junhui says, handing Jihoon a torn corner of his receipt from earlier. Jihoon takes it, although he can’t think of a use for it, and they part ways again, except this time Jihoon foresees that it won’t be the last time they’ll meet.

 

He sees Junhui in the library next, a little away from the corner he sits in when he studies there, and is invited to join him. Junhui has a thick textbook on classical music laid open beside his laptop, and he leans in extremely close to squint at the small font. Jihoon finds it unexplainably endearing.

 

Junhui falls asleep on his book after a few hours, and Jihoon doesn’t even notice because his face was literally just a few centimetres away from the page when he was reading it. He lets out a quiet chuckle, and snaps a picture. He doesn’t know why he did it, because they’re not even close friends, and Jihoon doesn’t take pictures of his acquaintances when they fall asleep studying.

 

Junhui tells Jihoon that he majors in dance, but he also has a strong passion for the piano, so he takes up piano lessons and studies it in his extra modules. It explains why his tracks mostly had piano instrumentals. Jihoon just catches himself from letting that slip past his lips.

 

They meet again in the mart near Jihoon’s apartment, and he’s starting to think that regardless of whether Junhui had given his number, they would still be able to talk. It turns out that the one near Junhui’s apartment had run out of juice, and he absolutely needed to get some juice to go with his cereal in the morning, so he ended up walking the extra few blocks to the next closest mart.

 

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” He gestures towards the basket Jihoon’s holding, filled with cup ramyun of all shapes and sizes. His forehead creases with worry, because it’s unhealthy and it isn’t nutritious at all. Jihoon waves him off, mumbling about budget and time constraints. Junhui lets it go, because he’s had his share of poor-college-student days as well. 

 

Jihoon tells him which brands are nicer, and Junhui finds himself grabbing one off the shelf before checking out.

 

It’s savoury, but Junhui thinks the ramyun they had together in the restaurant a week back was definitely much better.

 

Jihoon should’ve gotten used to bumping into Junhui now, but he’s still surprised when he hears his name being called in the cafeteria. It’s all the way across campus, in the School of Business Management, and Jihoon’s only ever there for the ginseng chicken. 

 

“I didn’t think I’d meet you here!” Junhui says, and his voice is less soft and more excited, and Jihoon likes how it sounds like a different genre.

 

They eat together again, and Junhui comments that it’s strange they keep seeing each other now, even though they’ve never seen each other before in school.

 

There could be a lot of reasons to that, Jihoon thinks. He never would have noticed Junhui before, even if they had crossed paths. He never observed his school mates unless they worked together for a project. He doesn’t have many friends, and they aren’t from the same school anyway, so his social circle was pathetically small. It’s only because of his USB that they even talked.

 

For the first time, Junhui proposes to meet. “I like surprises, but I’d rather I don’t happen to see you when I’m in my pajamas and flip flops.” Jihoon laughs, and he visibly brightens from the reaction. They plan to catch the newest movie in the cinema halfway between their apartments, because Junhui has free tickets from a survey he did (“you should look out for them, sometimes they give pretty lit rewards”). Jihoon’s mind is blaring _date date date_  in angry red letters, but he calmly agrees and lets himself get swept away by Junhui’s giddy, breathless, “I’ll see you, then.”

 

The movie is quite interesting, it turns out, although Junhui warned him that free tickets usually meant boring rom-coms. Jihoon loves action movies, so it was a pleasant surprise to him. Junhui can’t stop gushing about the fighting scenes, and he tells Jihoon that he learns martial arts as well. There is so much to learn about Junhui, and Jihoon feels like as if he’s just starting to learn the alphabet, every new piece of information feels like a blow to his head.

 

“So, what do you think? Are you up for more planned meetings rather than walking into me on the streets?” Junhui cracks a wry smile, and Jihoon scoffs, “I’ll see you when I see you. Today was nice, though.” Junhui beams at him, and it’s warm, even though it’s in the middle of winter.

 

If there was a way to describe them, it’s like a planned surprise, to expect the unexpected, to prepare to be surprised. 

 

Jihoon meets Junhui in the most unexpected places, and yet it is in these places that he has the inkling that they would coincide. He doesn’t need to act like he’s surprised, because when it comes to Junhui, he’s always unprepared. The words he says, the things he does, everything is different. Junhui is like the anomalous point away from the best fit line he used to draw in Math class, and Jihoon can’t predict what he would do.

 

They meet again, this time back where they first met, and Jihoon feels a wave of deja vu wash over him. “Not holding anything important, are you?” Junhui chuckles as he holds the door open. Jihoon shakes his head amusedly and nods as a muted sign of thanks. 

 

“Jihoon!” He turns around to see Junhui holding the door open by just a crack, enough for his voice to echo down the hall. “If you don’t mind, would you like to have dinner with me later?”

 

In that moment, it’s yet another genre, one that Jihoon can’t quite describe - a little bit of nervousness, a little bit of vulnerability, a little bit of excitement mixed together.

 

A little like falling in love.

 

Jihoon nods, and sends Junhui off with a smile and a promise to text when he’s done, his heart palpitating at allegro. He’s never quite felt this way, like his stomach was a hummingbird at flight, churning restlessly. Jihoon’s heard and even produced love songs, but none of them could quite encompass the feeling in this moment. 

 

This time, Junhui tells him to meet him at the entrance, but they end up colliding outside the toilet on the third storey, an amused laugh bubbling its way out of Jihoon’s chest before he can catch himself. Junhui shakes his head with a smile and keeps his hand on Jihoon’s arm where it’s holding him steady, “We really have to stop meeting like this, it could cause accidents.”

 

_A lot of accidents have already occured_ , Jihoon muses. In fact, the fact that they know each other is probably an accident too. They’re both vastly different, Junhui a nice, sociable guy, Jihoon a socially awkward geek, there couldn’t have been any way that they could cross paths. But in the vast emptiness that is the outer space, a comet and an asteroid taking two entirely different trajectories could eventually collide. In the same way, people like Junhui and Jihoon could possibly, just maybe, fall in love with each other.

 

As they walk out of school, Junhui comments on how the weather is a little chilly these days. He looks up at the sky with a little disdain, rubbing his arm for warmth. The setting sun hits the tip of his nose perfectly, like a scene from the movies, and Jihoon tries and fails not to stare. “Is there something on my face?” Junhui asks, touching his cheek self-consciously. _Your ridiculous beauty,_  Jihoon wants to say. “Nothing,” he replies, hiding his face in the high collar of his jacket. If Junhui noticed him blushing, he doesn’t mention it, and Jihoon wonders how his face could heat up so fast despite the cold weather.

 

They share an economical meal of chicken stew, and Junhui gives his serving of rice to Jihoon, and takes more meat instead. It becomes a silent agreement on both sides, a rule written between them - Junhui takes the meat, Jihoon takes the rice. Jihoon hardly finds people who don’t eat steamed rice, so he’s thankful that Junhui is willing to give it up for him.

 

“Are you sure you’re eating enough, though?” he asks as Junhui kindly refuses to eat the last two mouthfuls of his own bowl. “I am, I am, don’t worry about me.” Who said he was worrying? But it’s true, whether he likes to admit it or not. He ends up feeding Junhui a spoonful of rice, and while he gets embarrassed doing it, the smile on Junhui’s face is worth it.

 

Jihoon worries a lot more for Junhui after that, it becomes a fragment of his common emotions - to feel concern for the other. He finds Junhui poring over the same thick textbooks in the library, and he makes a show of heaving a loud sigh where he knows Junhui will hear him.

 

“You tell me not to worry,” he starts, crossing his arms, “but here you are, in the library at… one. In the morning.”

 

“I have an assignment due! Plus, students always study in the library till late,” Junhui whines, the last part of his sentence a higher pitch than normal as he stretches. Jihoon snorts, jerking his thumb towards the librarian counter, “Yeah, sure. The library is _closed_ , Junhui. They probably just gave up on chasing you away.”

 

He looks at the deserted counter, then back at Jihoon, grinning sheepishly, “Ah, you caught me there.”

 

Jihoon makes no move to sit down, trying to exert whatever peer pressure he has to make Junhui go home (because it’s absurd to be studying alone in a deserted library), but there’s a thousand excuses for Junhui to stay put in his seat. It’s late and walking home would be more dangerous than sleeping here, he doesn’t have morning classes the next day - Junhui even starts yawning halfway through giving his next reason, a telltale sign that he’s stretched himself past his limits for the day.

 

“If it’s too far, just crash at my place or something,” Jihoon says, immediately flushing. He never asks anyone over to his apartment. Junhui, however, agrees to that, and tiredly packs his belongings into his bag. Jihoon fidgets nervously, although he doesn’t know why he’s so antsy about Junhui going over to his house when the guy is obviously going to fall asleep two steps through the front door.

 

“It’s really messy,” Jihoon mumbles as he gently guides Junhui through the living room, feeling extremely self-conscious over his items littered across his place. Junhui waves him off, falling onto the couch ungraciously, his bag toppling off the arm rest. Well, at least he doesn’t care that Jihoon left a worn shirt on the top of it. He quietly removes it and throws it into the laundry basket on the way to his room. He can already hear Junhui snoring softly, and he smiles to himself, feeling proud that he managed to make the other get his well-deserved rest. Through a series of worrying texts the past few days, Jihoon learnt that Junhui has been practically living in the library, studying for a test that carries a heavy weight in his classical music grade - the very reason he walked to campus in the middle of the night to persuade the other to take a break.

 

Jihoon sneaks a glance to the living room after coming out of the shower, and he’s ridiculously endeared by the sight of Junhui’s right leg sticking out from the other side of the couch. It’s too small for his tall physique, and Jihoon ponders over whether he should ask Junhui to sleep on his bed. It seems like too much to ask as a normal friend, and Jihoon doesn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, so he opts to leave his door open and climb into bed quietly with a pink tinge on his cheeks. Closing the door seems too cold, so at least like this, it feels as though they’re sleeping in the same room.

 

He wakes up before Junhui does, and he hovers over the couch aimlessly, hesitating to call the other up. He eventually moves on to make his coffee, and the whir of the coffee machine rises Junhui from his slumber.

 

“Jihoon? What time is it?” Junhui groans from the couch, and it sounds so raw and gravelly, nothing like his singing. Jihoon files this under another genre in his mind’s library.

 

It’s eight, and apparently that’s too early for Junhui. Jihoon sits on the arm rest and shoots judgemental looks at him, but he cracks when Junhui shifts to give him space on the couch, then lays his head on Jihoon’s lap. It’s too much intimacy in the morning in Jihoon’s standards, but he has little to no intimacy in his life to begin with, so this is uncharted waters to Jihoon, and he doesn’t know how far he’s willing to swim.

 

Junhui quickly falls asleep again, and Jihoon lets him, because he doesn’t know if he would take such a long break again before his test. He gets mesmerised by the freckles on Junhui’s face, and counts them over and over again, until Junhui shifts and wakes up the second time.

 

“You’re a great thing to wake up to,” he yawns, and Jihoon freezes at the statement. Is he kidding? Is he flirting? Junhui is half-asleep, and Jihoon knows half-asleep people tend to talk gibberish, but maybe in the first place Junhui didn’t mean anything by saying that, because half-asleep people don’t really think before they speak, and why is he thinking so much about this, anyway?

 

Junhui sits up, and stretches, his face scrunching up in the cutest way, and Jihoon has to look away to stop himself from reacting. “I feel really good,” Junhui announces, a content smile on his face, “today is already a good day.”

 

He then makes the absurd proposal of going ice skating (“It’s Tuesday, Junhui.” “There isn’t any law that says we can’t skate on Tuesday, is there?”) and yet, Jihoon can’t find it in himself to reject him. He has no classes on Tuesday too, so it’s a good opportunity to catch a breather.

 

Junhui chatters his ear off as they walk to the mall with the new ice skating rink, and Jihoon normally gets annoyed when people talk so much in such a short span of time, but he shuts up about it, partly because whatever Junhui saying is mildly interesting, and partly because he’s come to terms with the fact that he’s biased towards Junhui after all. They sit side by side on the subway, with their shoulders pressed against each other, and Jihoon doesn’t even move away. He chides himself for being so unbearably biased, but the appreciative smile Junhui gives him kicks all the fighting spirit out of him.

 

It’s mildly embarrassing how this is probably only the second time he’s stepped on ice in his life. Junhui is already gliding away like an Olympic figure skater, and Jihoon watches in envy at the way his steps are so smooth and natural. “Come on, we’ll start slow,” Junhui smiles, holding out both hands to Jihoon. He takes them hesitantly, and grimaces, “Your hands are so cold.”

 

Junhui rolls his eyes, and withdraws his hands, “It _is_ in the middle of winter, you know. If you don’t like my cold hands, then you can balance on your own.”

 

Jihoon’s hand flies out to grab onto them tighter. It’s by instinct, an action fuelled by his desire to hold Junhui’s hands. Even though he doesn’t have any liking for cold hands and frozen skin, Junhui’s might be an exception. Jihoon tries to distract himself from the hands, focusing on his footwork. Left, right, left, right - slowly, like a baby learning how to walk. 

 

If he’s too fast, Junhui will let go, and if he’s too slow, it wouldn’t be fun. It takes his mind off how dry Junhui’s hands are, the callouses on his palm formed likely by dancing, the gentle pressure of Junhui’s thumb brushing against his knuckles. The mere action of a hand holding another human hand, but Jihoon feels the satisfying click, like two puzzle pieces are joined together.

 

“There,” Junhui says eventually, “you’re doing great on your own!” _I’m not_ , Jihoon wants to say, already missing the minimal warmth Junhui’s hands provided in the otherwise freezing rink. He skates away too fast, too beautifully, and Jihoon is left struggling with basic steps. He tries to go a little faster anyway, and it gets easier. It always gets easier once you take the risk, once you dare yourself to fall. In a same way that it’s easier to balance on a bicycle when you ride fast, it’s easier to coordinate your steps when you skate fast. Jihoon wonders if it’s easier to love when you let yourself fall.

 

Junhui remains in front of him while they skate around the rink, throwing him encouraging looks over his shoulder. He suddenly turns around and stops, however, and Jihoon, still an amateur, tumbles into his chest (it triggers a strong sense of deja vu) ungracefully.

 

“They’re closing the rink for cleaning,” Junhui smiles, his arms still hanging loosely around Jihoon’s waist from catching him, “and our session is ending.” Jihoon steadies himself and nods, saying he’s hungry anyway, and Junhui’s stomach growls on cue. They drag themselves out of the rink along the wall (so that Jihoon won’t fall), and make their way to the nearest eatery to grab a bite. Junhui insists on paying for both of them, and when Jihoon protests, Junhui grabs his hand that’s reaching for his wallet. Through the struggling, Jihoon realises that Junhui simply isn’t going to give up, so he gives in and drops his hand.

 

Junhui doesn’t let go.

 

(It’s a rather smooth move, Jihoon thinks, as his pulse steadily accelerates at the feeling of Junhui’s fingers sliding in between his own.)

 

“I really hate to break it to you,” Junhui says as they make their way back to Jihoon’s apartment, “but I have to study later, so I won’t be able to accompany you.” Jihoon nods, mind numb and only focusing on Junhui swinging their arms lightly white they walk.

 

He waves goodbye to Junhui after the latter packs his belongings and returns to his own apartment, then sits down in front of his desk to start on the upcoming assignments he has. It’s unnerving, how the lyrics he writes recently are all so lovestruck. It’s not that he hasn’t written love songs before, but it’s so much easier to describe the emotions involved - the longing, the exhilaration - everything comes from his heart. It’s so painfully obvious that he’s developing feelings for the other, and even more apparent that Junhui is returning them. Jihoon blushes when he remembers how their fingers interlocked so naturally. 

 

Junhui drops a text at eleven at night, asking if Jihoon remembered to eat. He stares at the screen and ponders if he should just tell a lie to placate the other, but he ends up grabbing an oversized bowl of cereal, shoving it into his mouth in big spoonfuls and replying that he’s eating now. He tries not to let himself feel too happy about the praise he receives for that (I mean, he’s just doing the minimum to take care of himself right?) but he fails, and he strikes a deal with himself to just spend a minute to smile like an idiot at that one message before getting a grip.

 

(After one minute, his grin is immediately wiped off his face, but another message pops up, a simple _rest early, sweet dreams!_ and he’s back to square one. Just another minute, he bargains.)

 

Jihoon is about to walk out the front door for his class when he thinks about Junhui holing himself up in the library for the good part of the afternoon, and strides over to the fridge to grab a yoghurt bar to give it to him later. When he opens the front door, he walks straight into the same familiar chest that he’s somehow used to bumping into. 

 

“This has to stop happening,” he grumbles when he takes a step back, rubbing his nose aggressively to give his face some proper reason to be bright red. Junhui laughs, the same melodic chime, and he scratches the back of his neck embarrassedly. “I just wanted to walk you to school,” he admits, and his cheeks flush a beautiful rose pink, “but I wanted to surprise you.” He conjures a cup of coffee from behind his back (Jihoon thanks the heavens he didn’t cause Junhui to accidentally spill it) and hands it to Jihoon, purposely brushing their fingers together. They walk in silence as Jihoon sips on it - Americano from the cafe they visited together - and Junhui hums a happy tune.

 

Jihoon debates whether to hold Junhui’s hand, he’s just swinging it lightly in a very tempting manner, his pretty fingers curling slightly, loose enough for Jihoon to squeeze his fingers between. After a few minutes of hesitation, he finally groans and grabs Junhui’s hand, and the other looks at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” he insists, threading their fingers together angrily, and squeezing his hand slightly after, “just wanted to hold your hand. You got anything against that?”

 

Junhui quirks an eyebrow, but he stutters when he says it’s fine, and Jihoon finds it cute, the way his ears are burning an angry crimson. He goes back to humming his tune, and when Jihoon pays closer attention, he recognises it. 

 

When he softly sings along, Junhui stops. “How did you know what I was going to sing?” he squeaks, looking at Jihoon in confusion. Even with his bewildered expression, he holds the same adorable look. “It was in your thumb drive, you know, the-“ Jihoon snaps his mouth shut, staring back with wide eyes. He wasn’t supposed to know that.

 

“You opened it?” Junhui’s voice just gets higher, his blush spreading, and Jihoon is worried that he fucked this one up. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing. I’m sorry you had to hear it,” he continues, rambling in his accented Korean, and Jihoon slowly breaks into a grin.

 

“I’m not sure if it would count for anything, but they were really good. And you have a nice voice as well, so I enjoyed listening to all of them,” Jihoon smiles, eyes shining, and Junhui ducks his head shyly. His grip on Jihoon’s hand tightens, and Jihoon gives it a reassuring squeeze.

 

“Do you want dinner?” Junhui asks just before Jihoon lets go of his hand to enter his classroom, “I was thinking of cooking tonight.”

 

“I’d love to,” Jihoon says with the slightest hint of a smile. He goes to class with a hammering heart and a chest full of fireworks.

 

That evening, they walk to his apartment hand in hand, and Jihoon finds himself hovering around Junhui as he cooks. He helps to cut the vegetables and slice the mushrooms, so Junhui can’t complain. Together, they whip up two large plates of Aglio Olio, but Jihoon feels more full by the sight of Junhui cooking than the pasta itself.

 

They watch a movie after that, Junhui’s arm around Jihoon’s waist and their sides flush against each other, and Jihoon just about loses it when Junhui rests his head lightly against Jihoon’s.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, achingly soft and yet Junhui hears it crystal clear over the speakers, “I think we should talk.”

 

“About?”

 

Jihoon leans away from Junhui, and shoots him a look, “About us.” Junhui raises his eyebrows, “Is there something you’re unhappy about?”

 

“No,” Jihoon blurts out, shocked that Junhui would even think that way, that he isn’t loving every minute spent with Junhui.

 

“Well then, what do you want to talk about?”

 

Jihoon sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. Suddenly the words dry up in his throat, each syllable melting and mixing ups into messy thoughts. "I mean… do you want to be my boyfriend?” Junhui freezes, and Jihoon watches in amusement as his face turns red slowly.

 

It turns out that Junhui is just waiting - not for Jihoon to ask, not for their stars to align, not for them to fall head over heels with one another and to realise it suddenly. “I think I want to see how this goes for some time,” he mumbles, hand reaching out for Jihoon’s, “I don’t want us to just get together after a few months and then realise we’re not for each other and then break up after. I think that would break me.”

 

Jihoon snorts, and he grips tight on Junhui’s hand, a silent message that _I won’t let you go_. “Well, I think we’re- you know,” he looks away in embarrassment, “I think we’re kind of.. you know… like… made for each other. But I understand what you mean.”

 

Junhui giggles and presses their foreheads together, Jihoon crossing his yes to stare at his nose bridge. “You can tell me more about that, Jihoon,” he smirks, “even if we’re not boyfriends now, I’m very much taken by you, so you can go ahead and take as long as you like to tell me how exactly we’re made for each other.”

 

It’s infuriating how his breath hits Jihoon’s lips in warm puffs, infuriating how his lips are curved into a smirk, infuriating how his eyes look so tantalisingly beautiful at this close distance. It’s infuriating how his voice comes out in a low baritone, unlike his usual speech, and it’s infuriating how Jihoon thinks it’s so attractive, this genre, and infuriating how Junhui knows how he’s pushing all of Jihoon’s buttons and he’s doing it anyway.

 

Junhui whines, and it’s almost funny because his voice is still lower than normal, so it comes out sounding like a whale. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

 

“You never asked, idiot,” Jihoon frowns, and the pressure of Junhui’s forehead against his smooths away his frown wrinkles.

 

“Am I going to have to ask for it? Then fuck it,” he laughs breathlessly, “I’ll do it myself.”

 

In that moment, Jihoon feels, as he closes his eyes, that his life was, in a way, empty before Junhui came along. He went on every day wanting to see the end of it, walked every road wanting to reach his destination, pursued every dream wanting to achieve it. Meeting Junhui was like filling in all the in-betweens, marking his days with their memories, opening his eyes to the scenery along his pathways and sharing his dreams with him. If Jihoon’s life was an empty canvass, life before Junhui was the outline done in pencil, an instrumental track with no vocals, and Junhui was his splash of vibrant paint, the voice that gave his music its colour. Junhui was the infinite possibilities of what genre his music could wind up to be, and as much as Jihoon loves music (and his mother’s homemade food), he loves Junhui.

 

When Junhui breaks the kiss, he smiles giddily, scooping Jihoon up in his arms and onto his lap, causing Jihoon’s face to crash into his chest again. (“You idiot, are you planning to break my nose with all the times you do that?”) 

 

“You know,” he murmurs into Jihoon’s ear, “I think you’re right that we were made for each other.”

 

Jihoon smiles and presses his face into Junhui’s collarbone, his head fitting snugly into the crook between his neck and shoulder. Maybe he isn’t right all the time, but he’s got a good hunch on this one, because out of the seven billion people in the world and all the beings in the universe, Junhui is that one speck of dust in the galaxy that can fill up all the gaps in his life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. and i am at home wherever you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In life, there is a beginning, and end, and everything in between. Everyone has the same start, and the same finish, but what makes each and every life different is the in-between.
> 
> Junhui learns that he is blessed to be able to litter his in-between with countless memories and snapshots of Jihoon.

“Junhui?”

 

Jihoon’s voice sounds hoarse and unpolished in the best way, and it sounds a thousand times better when it’s the first thing Junhui hears in the morning. He turns his head to face Jihoon, and his hand instinctively reaches out to cup his cheek. “Morning,” he croaks, equally gravelly.

 

He doesn’t remember when he fell asleep, but it was sometime after they crawled into bed, sometime between all the fleeting touches between their fingertips and hushed giggles under the blanket, sometime while listening to Jihoon’s low murmurs, as soft as a lullaby. Falling asleep to Jihoon and waking up to Jihoon is probably the two best things to experience on a daily basis, he decides.

 

“I’ll make breakfast for us,” he says, pinching Jihoon’s cheek lightly, causing him to frown adorably. He looks like he wants to say something, but he presses his lips together and nods, flipping over and stretching as Junhui tumbles out of bed.

 

“You’re terribly domestic,” Jihoon drawls from the doorway, and Junhui almost drops the pan in surprise. He can already picture the smirk, the crossed arms, shoulder leaning against the door frame - ah, and the gaze, always the same burning gaze. Junhui’s memorised so many things about Jihoon, faster than he can memorise any choreography or song. 

 

There’s something different today, something heavy in the air, but it doesn’t suffocate, it just gently rests its weight on Junhui’s shoulders. It’s the same feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something, but you can’t remember it. Except that Junhui remembers, and he’s going to remember it for a long time to come. Another weight drops itself around his waist, and he glances down to see Jihoon’s hands resting on his sides.

 

“Can I help you?” He smiles, tipping his head back to see the tuft of black hair buried between his shoulder blades. “I’m hungry,” Jihoon answers, voice muffled, “hurry cook.”

 

Junhui snorts, and expertly flips the omelette. “Aren’t you an impatient little thing. Go sit down, I’ll give you your food soon.”

 

Jihoon simply lets out an indignant sound at _little thing_ , slaps his arm and stalks off, muttering under his breath about tall guys and their unreasonably high ego.

 

Junhui walks out with both plates to find Jihoon scrolling through his phone, and he suddenly knows what Jihoon means, suddenly feels disgustingly domestic. They’re not even boyfriends, but it’s like they took the expressway to marriage, soft mornings spent together.

 

“Jesus,” he says, letting the plate clatter onto the table, “I feel like we’re two years into married life.” Jihoon snickers and eats a third of the omelette in one mouthful, “Get used to it, Junhui.”

 

Even hearing his name out of the other’s mouth makes him so happy. _Fuck, I’m so whipped._ Or maybe it’s just the air. The lingering thoughts of last night, the kiss, the confession, and everything before and after, every moment spent with Jihoon thus far leading up to this moment-

 

“What are you thinking of?” Jihoon asks softly, his hand sliding across the table to loop their pinkies together. Junhui fights to think of a response. _Nothing? Everything? I love you?_

 

“Last night,” he admits, taking great interest in the wood pattern on the table. He knows he’s blushing, but it happens so often around Jihoon that it probably doesn’t make a difference anymore. 

 

Jihoon hums, the rest of his fingers curling around his own. “I’m sorry if I rushed it or anything,” he says, voice as gentle as the waves against the sand during low tides. Junhui glances up to meet his gaze, and it’s equally comforting. Jihoon tells him in unspoken words that everything will be okay, and Junhui believes him.

 

“No, you’re good, I just need time to think,” Junhui replies, giving him a reassuring smile, “I don’t want you to assume, for even one second, that I’m not pathetically whipped for you.”

 

Jihoon chokes on air, and his gaze drops to the tabletop, the hand holding Junhui’s going slack. He clears his throat, and mumbles a quiet _okay_  without looking up, biting the corner of his bottom lip to stop a smile from forming. Junhui wants to scream and pinch his cheeks and squeeze the life out of him, but all of the options sound life-threatening to both of them, so he holds back.

 

Holding back could be dangerous too, because he’s just a bag bursting at the seams, overflowing with affection for the other boy.

 

Junhui wonders briefly if there could be a limit to how much love he has to offer to Jihoon, if there’s a formula to all this, some way he can make sense of the feelings he had in the past few months he’s known the musician. Is it possible to fall in love so fast, and so hard? Would it last, or would it not? How did Jihoon figure his own feelings and insecurities so easily? Junhui lets his brain wander to the topic of soulmates, and if there was a chance that, in this world of seven billion people, he’s found _the one_ in between the glass doors of his school building, a friendship forged over accidental meetings, and love blossoming like the redness on their cheeks when they meet.

 

Junhui is actually thankful that Jihoon doesn’t have many friends in school, and none that he is particularly close to, because the frequency of him hovering around Jihoon  increases tenfold after that fateful night, and there is nobody to question their relationship. 

 

“Junhui,” Jihoon says one day, chewing on a bun, “uh, do you want to meet my friends?”

 

_Oh shit,_ Junhui panics, _he has friends_.

 

Okay, that didn’t sound very nice in his head.

 

“Sure!” He says hesitantly, “Where will you be meeting them?”

 

Jihoon pulls his phone out and scrolls through a few messages (Junhui sees his own message in the midst of all the text, a glaring _Jun_ ❤️ standing out, and his heart leaps). “They’re coming over on Friday, and I’ll probably meet them for dinner. No pressure, but they don’t come here often and I kind of want to introduce you to them...”

 

Junhui nods, pressing his arm against Jihoon’s as a sign of assurance. They’ve been making it a thing, silent gestures and unspoken thoughts as words. It comes easy, because they have nothing to hide between the two of them. 

 

“What would you introduce me as?” Junhui blurts out, remembering that they aren’t _boyfriends_  yet. Jihoon shrugs, and mumbles that his friends will get the idea they have something going on, since Jihoon rarely brings guys to introduce to them.

 

Junhui, of course, has no idea who these friends are, and who are the guys that Jihoon ever invited to dinner. He wonders if Jihoon will ever tell him about his past relationships, or if he’ll ever be asked the same questions.

 

(That night, Junhui would eventually give in to curiosity and ask Jihoon about it, and Jihoon would give him a confused look and shoot back, “They aren’t important anymore now that I have you, right? The past doesn’t matter, because if you’re going to be my boyfriend, you’ll be my last.” And Junhui would blush and stutter and Jihoon would smirk at him and pull him down for a kiss, sending Junhui into a frenzy. Not the proudest moment in his life.)

 

Junhui is nervous. He’s never felt so jittery before, and he isn’t even meeting Jihoon’s parents. They’re just a couple of friends. _Just his pals_ , he assures himself _, nothing to be scared of._  But his palms are still clammy, and his heartbeat racing. Jihoon grabs one of his hands to calm him down, but he’s so antsy that he pulls it away instinctively. He hates to have to hold Jihoon’s hand with his sweaty hands. “It’s okay,” Jihoon says soothingly, rubbing his thumb against his knuckles. He nods stiffly, looking around trying to catch a sight of any guys of the same age.

 

“They’re inside already,” Jihoon says amusedly, glancing up at him. 

 

“Then why are we out here?” 

 

“Are you sure you want to go in in this state? You look like you’re going to pee your pants when you see them.”

 

Junhui frowns, his nose scrunching up in distaste, “I will _not_  pee my pants.”

 

Jihoon chuckles, “If you say so. Let’s go in then, don’t want to keep them waiting, do we?”

 

Jihoon’s friends are called Soonyoung and Seungcheol, and they both look intimidating as hell to Junhui, but that may just be due to his nerves. And he is certainly not going to pee his pants.

 

Soonyoung (“The one with small eyes,” Jihoon said) hollers, “Hey Jihoon! Hello, Jun...”

 

“Junhui,” he says meekly, reaching a hand out. Instead of a normal handshake, Soonyoung grabs him, arm wrestling style, and tugs to bring their arms and chest together, like they’re long-time friends. Junhui visibly relaxes after that. “Hello, Junhui,” Seungcheol says warmly, smile reaching his big, pretty eyes. 

 

Jihoon’s friends are almost as beautiful as Jihoon himself. They exude a warm and welcoming aura, not like the typical friends who ask a million and two questions about their relationship. Soonyoung asks him about his major, and it turns out he’s a dancer as well, so they talk passionately about different genres, different styles, while Seungcheol and Jihoon chat quietly about _how’s it been going?_

 

At the end, Soonyoung invites Junhui to the dance school just a little away from campus, and says it’ll be a great experience. Junhui agrees that it’s worth a shot.

 

“So are you guys done talking about ballet? Can we join in the conversation now?” Seungcheol cheekily asks, his teeth showing in a handsome grin. Soonyoung protests, saying they never meant to digress. 

 

Their food is long finished, and they only have their drinks left. Junhui is half surprised, half relieved that their conversation hasn’t died. Soonyoung and Seungcheol have been nothing but kind to him, and he might actually cry.

 

They talk a little about how they’re doing now, Seungcheol admitting that he’s just gotten a promotion, and announcing that he’s going to treat everyone, no objections. They congratulate him with a bottoms up of their soft drinks, and he grins back happily. _He really has a nice grin_ , Junhui thinks.

 

“Are you going to stare at him all day?” Jihoon asks, voice unnaturally strained. Seungcheol looks between the two of them, and lets out a loud guffaw. Junhui sputters a denial, and immediately looks at his empty cup in embarrassment, “I can’t help it, Seungcheol has a nice smile!”

 

The owner of the nice smile, smiles wider, resting his chin on one hand and batting his eyelashes.

 

“Alright, you guys, don’t bully Junhui!” Soonyoung laugh, slapping Seungcheol’s arm. “I wasn’t bullying him! I love compliments about my smile, they remind me that I’m still young and charming,” Seungcheol says, lips curving into a smug smirk.

 

Jihoon frowns at all of them, and gives Junhui a look that he, for the first time, can’t decipher. It scares him a little, because what if Jihoon is taking this seriously and he’s going to close off whatever he’s thinking from Junhui from now on?

 

“I swear I’m not into your friend, Jihoon. I’m not that kind of guy,” he says solemnly, earning more loud laughter from the other two. “God, you two are so cute,” Seungcheol says, wiping a fake tear from his eye. Jihoon simply glares at them, but a mere two seconds later he’s laughing along. Junhui breaks into a relieved smile.

 

“Last long,” Soonyoung says quietly to Junhui as Seungcheol settles the bill and Jihoon goes to the washroom, “you two look really good together.”

 

Junhui doesn’t know if he should say that they’re not technically together, but he decides to keep mum eventually. After all, it’s only a matter of time.

 

Junhui decides to stay over at Jihoon’s apartment, because his own home is a little further down from the restaurant, and the food coma is kicking in fast. Jihoon’s hand finds his easily, without looking, without the help of the dimly lit streetlights, without any hesitation.

 

They’re both exhausted by the time they finish showering, sleep gnawing at the corners of their heads and clawing at their consciousness. Junhui climbs into Jihoon’s bed like it’s his own, swings an arm over Jihoon’s waist like he’s done it a million times.

 

“So are you ready to be my boyfriend yet?” 

 

Junhui doesn’t answer, just pretends to be asleep.

 

“Junhui...”

 

He snaps his eyes open when he senses Jihoon’s insecurity. He doesn’t want to impose such feelings to the person he loves. Because after all, maybe they’re both equally scared of the same things. 

 

“Nope,” he giggles, booping Jihoon’s nose.

 

Jihoon lets out a frustrated _harrumph_ , and Junhui squeals in laughter at him, tugging him into his chest and nuzzling his cheek into his head, “I love you, you cute little fairy.”

 

“You love me, but you don’t want to be my boyfriend?!” Jihoon continues indignantly, trying to rub his furious blush away against Junhui’s shirt. Junhui simply nods against his head.

 

“It’s just going to take away all the novelty when you _finally_  agree,” Jihoon sighs, “but I guess I won’t force you still.”

 

“I don’t know why I’m scared,” Junhui admits after a moment’s silence, “I just don’t want to lose you after getting you.” Jihoon doesn’t reply for a long while, unmoving, and Junhui is starting to think he’s fallen asleep when Jihoon suddenly tears himself away from his chest, and places both his hands on Junhui’s cheeks. 

 

“Look at me.”

 

Junhui looks. He sees his entire world in front of him, his happiness wrapped up in his own two arms, holding him with its own two hands.

 

“I’ll always be scared of losing you. It’ll never go away, even if you’re my boyfriend, even if you’re not. Even if you’re eighty and old and ready to jump into a coffin, I’ll still not want to lose you. Even if I don’t have you, I won’t want to lose you.” He opens his mouth again, hesitates, and eventually drops his hands, pressing his nose into the spot above Junhui’s heart, arms snaking around Junhui’s waist.

 

He can’t find words for a good few minutes, head spinning with Jihoon’s sudden outburst, heart aching with the sincerity behind them. 

 

“Jihoon,” he whispers, “I’m so terribly in love with you right now.”

 

“Just now?” Jihoon smiles back wryly, pretending to be deep in thought, “so all the previous months, you were just pretending?”

 

Junhui rolls his eyes.

 

“All right, I was kidding. But I’m serious about waiting for you no matter how long it takes.” 

 

Junhui hopes he looks thankful, because he really is. Not every guy would be willing to do this, and every minute that passes, Junhui is afraid that Jihoon would have enough of it, and leave him standing in the dust alone. There is so much to be afraid of, in life, and in love. To be afraid of taking a step forward, and even more so to take a step backward. Before every bungee jump, there is the unrelenting fear of taking the plunge, but without lifting off the platform, you’d never get to feel the exhilaration of the jump. 

 

Without daring to risk your happiness, you’ll never get to feel the indescribable feeling of being in love. 

 

Junhui thinks that maybe falling is part of the fun. After all, it’s the in between, the three hundred feet where you’re free-falling that makes people go back again and again, risking their lives and tipping themselves off bridges with only a single lifeline strapped to their backs. Junhui can’t decide which part of the entire process Jihoon is, but just as sleep takes over and darkness engulfs him, he realises that maybe Jihoon is every part of it - the safety harness, the fall, and the safe landing at the end.

 

Junhui never gets used to waking up beside Jihoon, because each time is just as magical as the first, as unreal and unexpected as the previous time. Even months later, when he opens his eyes to be served a good dose of morning-Jihoon, he inhales sharply at the innocence of the male in front of him.

 

He stares for a good minute or so because turning over and taking his phone, scrolling through his social media. On Instagram, he chances upon a junior’s post on his short trip back home during the Easter Break, and he looks at the pictures again and again, awed by the beauty of the scenery. He’s never been to Jeju Island, and since he has a day off on Tuesday, he could just skip his Monday lessons and take a break...

 

Junhui doesn’t stop himself even when he’s submitting the payment for flight tickets. It’s just a short trip, no pressure, and this is his favourite type of activity - unplanned, spontaneous things.

 

Suddenly, Jihoon groans, and Junhui’s hand crawls across the bed to smooth over his hair, to which Jihoon hums appreciatively at. “Good morning,” he yawns.

 

“Say, Jihoon, do you want to go to Jeju?”

 

Jihoon stretches his back and flops over to face Junhui, “Do you have a knack for making sudden proposals like this?”

 

“I never said ‘let’s go to Jeju’, I was asking if you wanted to!”

 

Jihoon hesitates for a moment, gaze drifting up to stare at a spot on Junhui’s forehead. Junhui playfully scoots up on the pillow so he meets Jihoon’s gaze again. “I mean, I’ve been there once. It’s mostly scenery,” he says, scratching his neck, “but if you want to go, I guess I don’t mind going with you.”

 

Junhui smiles warmly, “That’s great, because I already booked an Airbnb-” Jihoon glares at him “-and a flight ticket, and I’m going to help you book yours right now.”

 

“You said you were just asking!” Jihoon says with no real bite, because Junhui is unpredictably predictable like this, and somehow, it’s an easy thing to get used to.

 

“I did!” Junhui retorts, “And my sudden proposals are the best. One day I’ll spring a ring in a velvet box at you and you won’t even know what hit you.”

 

Jihoon continues glaring, although it’s lost all the effect because his cheeks are a bright pink, “You know what’ll hit you, though? My fists.”

 

Junhui laughs, and wraps his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Jihoon complies easily, and they spend the next few moments just embracing each others’ warmth, breathing in synchronised breaths. 

 

Jihoon suddenly makes an angry whine, and Junhui pulls away slightly to glance down. “Why are you talking about wedding rings when you’re not my boyfriend yet!”

 

_Oops?_

 

“Soon, my sweet pea,” Junhui croons, cradling Jihoon’s head, “soon.”

 

Apparently Junhui found it appropriate to ask for Jihoon’s availability for the trip just two days before the flight. Jihoon frowns at him when he walks out with his duffel bag to see the culprit standing at his doorway proudly with a cabin baggage. “Are you ready?” 

 

Jihoon’s frown deepens, and Junhui finds it strangely endearing. Endearing that Jihoon is grumpy and standing in his living room at five in the morning with his messy bed hair, and yet he is willingly going on this trip with Junhui. 

 

He plucks the duffel bag out of Jihoon’s hand and drops it on top of his own luggage, trying not to get affected by Jihoon smushing his face into Junhui’s back and hand gripping his elbow with whatever strength he can muster in the early morning.

 

It’s a miracle that Junhui gets them both to Jeju in one piece (or should he say, two pieces?) because Jihoon before ten in the morning is just a clingy, sleepy koala bear. Junhui secretly thinks he was sleepwalking through the bag check area.

 

After they successfully check into the Airbnb, Jihoon falls onto the bed lifelessly and drags Junhui along until they become a mess of limbs.

 

Junhui almost gets swept away by the feeling, until he jolts awake, “Jihoon, I want to go walk around, not lie here all day.”

 

Said male makes a disappointed sound, but he rolls away and sits up, giving Junhui an expectant look, “Well then, what are you waiting for?”

 

Much to Jihoon’s disappointment, they start their day’s adventure with a short hike up the Hallasan, and by the time they’ve reached the peak of their route, he’s grumbling about his old back and knees. When he straightens up, he makes a cute little gasp at the scenery before him. Even at a third of the height, they can see a good part of the reserve below them, trees and grass fields going on for miles.

 

“It’s as beautiful as you,” Junhui chirps, bumping Jihoon’s shoulder with his own. The latter snorts, and shakes his head fondly.

 

After a couple of photos (including a selfie of the two of them that Junhui immediately sets as his new lock screen), they make their way down, and Junhui hums a tune, one that he thought of a while back. He’s shocked again when Jihoon joins him. 

 

“I keep forgetting you listened to my lousy compositions,” he whines, playfully shoving Jihoon. “They’re not bad!” Jihoon exclaims, eyes widening, “I really liked them. I think it’s because of those songs that I became so interested in you in the first place.”

 

Junhui blushes, not quite believing that his imperfect work could have brought this godsent blessing to him. But then again, their relationship is all about the most unexpected things, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

 

Jihoon tells him they should work on it when they go back home, record properly and fine tune the melodies. Junhui lifts him off the ground in a hug, and Jihoon doesn’t struggle, just laughs freely and he hugs Junhui’s neck. 

 

“I’m really happy,” Junhui suddenly blurts out. Jihoon raises an eyebrow, and he splutters, “No, I mean it! You’re here with me, and there’s nice scenery, nice food, nice air...” Junhui trails off, smiling widely, and Jihoon reaches out to poke his cheek, “Yes, you dummy. I’m happy too. Now can we go eat? I’m hungry.” 

 

The only thing that can satisfy Jihoon’s hunger is a free flow barbecue place, and he really makes the most out of the meal, shoving bowl after bowl of rice and endless pieces of meat into his mouth. 

 

“Sometimes I wonder why you’re this short when you eat so much,” Junhui beams at him, and Jihoon throws a grain of rice at his face.

 

It’s only eight when they get back to their room, but both of them are exhausted. “I’m never doing so much walking in a day again,” Jihoon groans, draping a leg across Junhui’s middle, earning him a whiny protest. Eventually, Junhui pushes him off, and trudges off to the shower to get ready for bed. It’s been a long day, and he’s used to hours of continuous dance practice, but hiking is a totally different league.

 

“Hey,” he nudged Jihoon awake, “go shower, than we can sleep.” “I don’t wanna,” Jihoon mumbles, swinging his limbs in an attempt to hug Junhui. He quickly moves away, shaking a daunting finger, “I won’t let you cuddle me unless you wash up.”

 

Jihoon groans, but pushes himself up reluctantly, “You better not be asleep before I come back.”

 

How could he? With the promise of cuddles waiting for him? Junhui chuckles as Jihoon throws him another warning look over his shoulder. He scrolls through his social media lazily, taking note of when the shower head turns on and off next door.

 

It’s too long and yet too short before Jihoon comes waddling back into the room with his hair slightly damp. He hands over the hairdryer wordlessly, and seats himself in Junhui’s lap. “Dry it for me,” he says, and Junhui does. 

 

(He could never say no.)

 

He taps Jihoon’s shoulder when he’s done, and he turns around and takes the hairdryer, dropping it beside them. He then straddles Junhui, placing his hands against his shoulders, and Junhui swears the contact is burning through his shirt. Jihoon then leans forward. It feels like time has stopped. Or did he fall asleep, and this is all just a dream?

 

Their lips crash together harshly, and suddenly, Junhui is pressed flush against the headboard, eyelids fluttering close and hands coming to rest on Jihoon’s waist. They move like clockwork, lips and tongues and teeth clashing together like two dancers in a duet, and Junhui can barely stay focused on the feeling when his brain is reeling from just how _right_  this feels. Jihoon isn’t gentle but he isn’t rough, just enough strength to keep Junhui feeling like putty under his hands. Junhui’s pretty sure his skin is on fire when Jihoon’s hands are resting on his shoulders, gently exerting his power that leaves Junhui weak in the knees. His hands slowly move to the back of his neck, pulling Junhui in closer, till there isn’t any gap between them, bodies melded together, warm and comforting. Junhui lets his hands travel underneath Jihoon’s shirt, kneading at the soft flesh on his side, making him hum contentedly against Junhui’s lips. The kiss is not too sloppy, and yet there is nothing controlled about it, their mouths sliding against each other like two hungered men, as if they’re the oasis after a long stretch of dry desert. Junhui can’t get enough of Jihoon, how he tastes and how he feels, and each passing second, he feels like he’s sinking lower into the pits of desire.

 

Junhui can’t tell if they’ve been kissing for two minutes or two years, but it seems to go on forever, and even as they break apart for air, he feels the ghost of Jihoon’s plump lips against his.

 

“You-” Jihoon starts, but he makes a sound that strongly suggests he can’t express his thoughts, and he brings his lips to Junhui’s again, this time in staccato pecks. Junhui keeps his eyes heavily lidded, just cracked open that little bit to see Jihoon’s face as he keeps diving in for more. It’s hard to describe, how Jihoon looks in that moment, and how he feels about it. He clearly has a slight frown, a tiny wrinkle on his forehead, but Jihoon isn’t angry, Junhui knows. He relishes the feeling of Jihoon’s lips pressing against his own countless times, and if he could control it, he’d never want it to stop.

 

He captures Jihoon’s lips as he leans forward, and insistently coaxes them open. Jihoon lets out a low hum, immediately melting into his arms, allowing Junhui to detach himself from the headboard. “My neck hurts,” he murmurs against Jihoon when he finally puts a pause to their making out. Jihoon simply chuckles, and massages the back of his neck, easing out the knots. He kisses Junhui again, and rests their foreheads together, “I love you, Moon Junhui.”

 

If time could stop, Junhui would have wanted it to happen then, with Jihoon’s arms around him, warmth suffocating him, and the look in his eyes - oh god, Junhui would love to preserve this moment, lock it up in his memories, seal it in his heart. Jihoon’s eyes are the warmest he’s seen, filled with pure adoration and love, and Junhui wishes that he were holding that look in his own eyes, because he loves Jihoon so much, so much that his heart can’t merely be capable of love. It transcends beyond that, beyond what he thought he was capable of. He possibly loves Jihoon more than Jihoon loves him, but he knows that would be the start of a very unnecessary and endless argument, so he settles for a draw, because there isn’t any basis that they can compare their feelings to anymore. If he could describe the feeling, it would be that every cell in his body aches for Jihoon, leans towards him like a flower does to sunlight and pines for him when he’s away. If the dictionary could define love, then Junhui would define himself as _a being irreversibly in love with Lee Jihoon._  

 

The morning after feels like a wave of deja vu, the air thick with emotion, and Junhui is woken up by a ticklish sensation down the bridge of his nose.

 

“You’re up,” Jihoon states, finger tracing the structure of his face, gliding like a feather against his skin. It isn’t even five seconds before he’s scooting forward and kissing Junhui again, leaving both of them breathless and flustered.

 

“Do you really like kissing me that much?” Junhui asks, the corner of his lips curling up. The other simply shrugs, “You’re a good kisser.” They share a few more pecks, and Junhui realised that he will never get enough of this, of slotting his mouth over Jihoon’s and of them moving like clockwork against each other. Maybe Jihoon was right - this is how they’re made for each other.

 

They leave the house after washing up, and Junhui checks the itinerary for the day. First, to the famous Jeju stone statues, then to the beach after lunch. They take silly pictures with the statues, ones that make Jihoon giggle behind the phone as he focuses the camera on Junhui, ones that Junhui laughs at when showing them to Jihoon, and ones where they pose together, while the staff member helpfully snaps the picture for them. It’s always fun when they’re on dates, but this is the first time Junhui sees Jihoon laugh so much, and his heart blooms with pride knowing that he’s the one who caused it.

 

They have a satisfying meal at midday, and take their time to get to the beach, taking the bus instead of a cab and pointing out of the window at anything and everything along the way. 

 

Junhui loves it, loves travelling with Jihoon, be it a vacation or a normal bus ride, just walking alongside him and enjoying every minute they spend together. Even if they get lost along the way, he’d be content as long as Jihoon was with him. If he was going to fall, there’s no other person he would choose to fall along with.

 

They reach the seaside nearing sunset, and Junhui, being a romantic, decides to take off his shoes and walk barefooted on the sand, letting his feet sink into the little grains, letting the waves splash over his toes. They keep their hands interlocked, and talk softly about everything and nothing, random topics and deep ones, and Junhui loves that they can do that - do everything and anything together. Nothing is too much and nothing is too shallow, and Jihoon is willing to share every side with him.

 

Junhui glances sideways to catch a glimpse of Jihoon, the sun reflecting off his face, orange glinting in his dark eyes. He looks beautiful then, but he’s just as beautiful as he is at any other time, and Junhui knows it’ll take some serious memory loss and brainwashing to have him think otherwise. Junhui feels his entire heart fill up, feels himself drowning, the bits of love that he can’t contain in himself washing away with the waves below them. If his love for Jihoon was orange and yellow, warm light and golden hues, then the entire ocean, lit up with the setting sun, would just represent what he feels. He looks up wistfully at the edge where the sky meets the sea, and wonders if there was an end to his love.

 

“Jihoon,” he whispers, voice as soft as the lapping waves, “I think I’m ready to be your boyfriend.”

 

Jihoon looks up immediately, his legs freezing in place, body stock still. He stares at Junhui with large, shocked eyes, and Junhui thinks he looks beautiful like this too. 

 

“R-really? Why- suddenly-” Jihoon’s hand clamps down on his own, and Junhui can hear and feel the quaver in his voice. 

 

“I love you, I love you so much there’s nothing in the world that could describe it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love anyone like I love you. And I don’t want to keep you waiting, so,” Junhui wraps his around hand around the back of Jihoon’s neck, “let’s be boyfriends.”

 

He kisses Jihoon then, and even though the other is still shocked, he melts into the kiss immediately, and Junhui can feel himself spiralling down the bottomless hole of feelings, with nothing to grasp on, the fall as exhilarating as it is frightening, the mere seconds of the bungee jump stretching out into an eternity.

 

In life, we all take risks, and sometimes, we only have little to trust, like that one stretchable rope harness when we bungee jump. Sometimes, it’s that single parachute when we sky dive. And why do we still risk our lives, despite knowing its dangers?

 

Junhui breaks away from Jihoon, watching the last rays of the sunset in his eyes. Jihoon smiles, bright and happy and fond, and he buries his face into Junhui’s chest, saying _I love you_  like a broken tape recorder, his voice sending vibrations against Junhui’s heart, etching the words into his skin. Maybe one day, this will end, and maybe one day, Junhui will regret it all, but Jihoon looks up at him, and in place of the orange glint from before is once again a gaze filled with love and a million other emotions for him, and Junhui thinks, _some risks we take are worth it._

 

The next two days are spent lazing in the room, walking around town and eating local delicacies, and enjoying each other’s company. Junhui thinks that whatever was in the air between them has finally settled, although his heart never will. He still feels breathless and excited whenever he’s with Jihoon, and he knows it’s the same for the other. Time flies and stops when they’re together, the minutes speeding by and yet memories are frozen into place, rendered timeless, carved into their hearts. 

 

Before they know it, it’s already time to board the plane back to Seoul. 

 

“Ready to go home?” Jihoon asks, a lot more awake than the previous time he was at the airport. Junhui smiles, and ruffles his hair affectionately.

“I’m always home when I’m with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly thank you ms jeon for beta-ing this!!!!
> 
> This is finally the end of my baby I honestly didn't expect it to become so long... I'm sorry if it turned out to be long-winded ahaha
> 
> For someone who always somehow writes in Jihoon's POV, I wanted to challenge writing Junhui's side for a change, and I wanted to portray him as someone who unexpectedly thinks a lot(?) I'm not sure if I did him justice, and if you squint you'll realise that I accidentally slipped into Jihoon's POV once or twice because I can't help it I'm too used to it HAHA
> 
> For those who've read till here, thank you so much for reading and I really appreciate every hit and kudos and comment! SPECIAL MENTION TO ahjummie for leaving such an encouraging comment ngl it motivated me to finish writing the second chapter thank you uwu I hope you like the second half!
> 
> Also I don't know if you guys noticed it but you know how Jihoon said when Junhui finally agrees to be his boyfriend... there wouldn't be an effect on him anymore... he still died inside because he is a Whipped Man
> 
> Please do leave a comment on what your favourite line/moment is! I'm curious to know hehe
> 
> And if you've also finished reading this long end note, thank you for reading this as well HAHAHA

**Author's Note:**

> UHMMMMM oh my god i'm- hello
> 
> thank you for reading to the end I really don't know what I was doing writing this but! I really hope you like it! Please tell me in the comments your favourite line/moment uwu
> 
> If y'all ship junhoon as well please come hmu on twitter (@mingshus) I'm always 100% down for junhoon content really although I know my u/n has no jun or hoon in it
> 
> I love every one of you reading this I would really really appreciate feedback or comments or anything!! I hope you have a good day ahead huehue
> 
> also this is unbetaed so if there are mistakes please let me know omfg i'm so sorry


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